At my last appointment I told the PA that I was a runner. We
were talking about how I felt and how much I could do and when. The running
threw her, possibly because she had just written down my weight and looked at
my blood pressure.Both of which say more
about my love for donuts rather than endorphins. She told me that I still had more
swelling than they’d like and that I wasn’t quite ready. That I needed to focus
on walking, Netflix and slowly building myself back up. To ask her again after I
could make it through the day without a nap and go grocery shopping without
breaking into a cold sweat. She started to give me a textbook lecture on
listening to my body, going slow and not overdoing it. Clearly I wasn’t paying
attention or she remembered that I was the girl who kicked the walker away in
ICU and that maybe she’d have to give me some clearer boundaries. She told me
to get to where I can easily and comfortably walk a 5K. Then I could start
jogging. Slowly. Then get to where I can jog a 5K comfortably then I can run
longer and harder. Period. The end.

I know it is crazy but I love a good long hard run. The kind
where I sweat through my clothes and develop a fine layer of salt on my body.I have rarely won any races, because it is
never about winning but going further and faster than I did the last time or
think I could. My brain is quiet when I run mostly because there is no energy
for anything other than breathing. I feel strong when I run. Ok, that isn’t
true. I feel like quitting or dying when I run. But when I get home I feel
strong. I’ve written about running over and over again. Pace, finishing strong
and endurance. I figure if I can find those things on the asphalt that maybe I can find
them in other places in my life as well.

For the last month or so I was laced up my tennis shoes,
sometimes with pajama pants and shuffle around the block or through the park.
Recently I have picked up the pace (a little), the distance and at least put on
shorts. I don’t even bother to make a playlist (which is usually my biggest
pre-run prep) because the headphones still bother me.

These days I am a walker.

I keep to the right.

I am filled with jealousy every time someone bounds past me
with their water bottle and new shoes.

I look longingly at every bench I pass and wonder if it
would be ok to take a quick nap on it.

But I keep walking.

I think maybe I could try running just a little.

But I can feel my head pounding and know this is a bad idea.

Right now I walk. Damn the old lady who just blew by me.

This is as fast as I go.

My brain is still a flurry unlike when I run, even though I
am exhausted.

I try to be kinder to myself.

To tell myself that I am healing.

That I need to not be in such a hurry.

That if these runners who keep passing me on my left only
knew what I was healing form that they’d be high-fiving me.

Today on the trail I saw a runner wearing a tank that simply
said, “rest later”.

Ironically she was walking.

Distance runners are trained to push through walls and pain
and your body telling you over and over to quit. There is a time to push. To go
harder and faster.

But for now, I have to do the exact opposite. I have to pay
attention. I have to listen, and be patient.

I need a tank top that says “rest now”.

At the moment I have a very physical wound, but it could
just as easily be an emotional one. I have a list of restrictions and a
timeline from my doctor, yet I still struggle to compare myself with all the
wrong people. The ones going faster and further than me. On the trail, or
pretty much everywhere else in my life.

I wrote everything you just read above three weeks ago.
Since then, I have tried to run a few times. Short distances at a snail’s pace.
Sometimes with success, sometimes with pain. Stopping at my first hint of nerve pain. I usually don’t keep up the pace
long enough to pass many walkers. But for the few I do, I see them a little
differently. My smugness is gone. I notice them. I smile or say hello. The
walker in me doesn’t feel quite as strong as the runner, but she is definitely
kinder.

She knows that you often have no idea what someone else is healing from.

other distractions....the good kind

About Me

just a girl trying to pursue this writing thing a little more seriously. i like to ramble. I usually, but not always make a point. and I'm not one to proofread or spell things correctly. i am a human buffet. i have a varied spread of talents ( teaching, crafting, running, soccer, writing, cooking) etc. but none of them are very good. so enjoy the variety and try not to look too close.